


Gratitude

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Spirit Healer Hawke [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Friendship, Holding Hands, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), POV Fenris (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 13:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Friends can speak frankly with one another, can't they?





	Gratitude

It was not really a bench.

In the alienage, such a slum as it was, it was only the vhenadahl and the elvhen lanterns that were truly well made. This, perhaps called a bench, perhaps not, was little more than a few spare slats of red-painted board on top of some cement blocks, and on top of the wood, a mage. He was wearing a hood that covered his head, a piece of fabric folded over his nose to mostly hide the distinctive red shine of the birthmark there, and he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, staring into space.

“Hawke,” Fenris said, and Hawke looked up. Even just seeing the hazel shine of his eyes, Fenris could see he was tired, and he watched as Hawke reached up to pull the scarf from over his mouth, baring his frowning lips. “People will think you an elf, sitting here, alone, in the alienage.”

“Good,” Hawke murmured. “Then they won’t bother me.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t at the clinic,” Fenris said delicately, taking a few uncertain steps forward, but Hawke offered no protest, and moved slightly aside on the bench, so that Fenris could sink down beside him. The wood did not so much creak beneath their shared weight, evidently hardier than Fenris had thought at first glance. “You have been spending a great many hours alongside Anders, as of late.”

“A lot of people need healing, need help,” Hawke said quietly, still staring into space. “A few apostates offer hours if they can, but not many, and most of them are focused on leaving Kirkwall, not hanging around. I can’t blame them for wanting to get out.” He pressed his fingers against his knees, and Fenris looked down at them, at the strong hands that Hawke preferred to use for the healing magic he did, if the staff could be avoided. Anders was the same – the healing magic, Fenris had learned reluctantly, was easier to do with your hands. It allowed for finer control. “But I needed a moment. To…”

“Relax?” Fenris offered.

Hawke laughed. It was a low, melancholy sound, and he met Fenris’ gaze.

“No,” he said defeatedly. “Not really.”

He was a handsome man. Fenris had always known that, had even flirted a little, in the beginning. Hawke was attractive even despite his magic. Anders was to be feared, abomination that he was, ever unpredictable, but Hawke… Hawke’s magic had never held any fear for Fenris.

Fenris remembered, even, the first time he had been injured in Hawke’s presence.

_“Don’t touch me_,” _Fenris growled as Hawke advanced, and Hawke hesitated, stricken. The wound was a great gash upon his thigh, bleeding freely._

_“Fenris, please,” Hawke said. “Let me just—”_

_“No!”_

_And Hawke softened, his palms spread in a gesture of peace, said, “Fine. Fine. No magic, no magic – can I bandage it?”_

He hadn’t pressed any further. When Fenris had relented, he had not rubbed in that he had used his magic to help, as Anders would have, didn’t harp on it. He merely sighed his relief, said _thank you_, and healed Fenris’ wounds as his skills allowed. He wondered, at times, what it must be like to lie beside him – not truly because of any attraction he fostered, but because of the curious aura Hawke exuded. He so often seemed older than his years, quiet, collected, and his calm was contagious, even when Fenris was all but whipped to a frenzy.

Did it work on the monster Anders carried inside him? Could Hawke becalm spirits, as well as broody elves and irritable townsfolk – could be becalm stormy seas, and quaking plains?

He was being unfair.

He was glad the thought went unvoiced.

“Varric tells me that one day all will be well,” Fenris said softly.

“Stories.”

“Nonsense,” Fenris agreed. “But pleasant nonsense. A nice thought. It is ideal, I think, to allow nicety to one’s thoughts.”

“Oh?” Hawke asked. “I shouldn’t take up brooding as a hobby, then?”

“Brooding is to be done in isolation,” Fenris said, mock serious. “I can’t allow too many people in my acquaintance to take up the art, lest the appeal of my own brooding is affected.”

Hawke’s laugh was sweeter this time, more genuine.

Fenris reached for one of his hands, and he took it, gently squeezing. Hawke did not draw away, their shoulders brushing, but merely squeezed back.

“I can feel the lyrium,” he said quietly. “Under your skin, thrumming. Some people think it’s alive, you know.”

“I can feel your magic,” Fenris replied. “It flows through you as blood does – I can feel it the way that I feel your pulse.”

“Do I frighten you?”

“No. No more than I frighten you.”

“Not at all, then.”

Fenris tapped his thumb against Hawke’s palm. “Are you frightened of that—” He stopped himself. “Of Anders?”

Hawke was silent.

“If you should ever wish to part ways, I would not…” Fenris hesitated. “I do not say this out of some desire to take you for myself, nor for reasons of scorn. Merely— If he _did_ frighten you, if you wished to leave, you could ask for help from me. I would not be so cruel as to belittle your mistake. I do not… I would not have you think me as callous as I am capable, in the face of a friend broken-hearted.”

“He frightens me, sometimes,” Hawke admitted. Fenris felt the sickly, unpleasant shift in his chest – was that his heart? Was this friendship, truly, friendship away from Tevinter? Why should his heart be so tangled in matters of what Hawke, Carver, Varric, Isabela, did with their times? Why was his heart so open now, when he had always done his best to keep its gates neatly closed? “But I don’t want to leave him. I love him, and it isn’t… It’s not fear of him, not really. Thank you, though. I… I am grateful to have your respect, Fenris, if not your approval.”

“It’s nothing,” Fenris said.

“It’s more than you know,” Hawke murmured, and gently drew his hand away. “I have work to do in the clinic.”

“I’ll escort you,” Fenris said.

Hawke smiled at him. Tired, yes, but genuine. “Come on, then,” he murmured, and they walked together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to hit up [my ask on Tumblr,](http://patricianandclerk.tumblr.com/ask) to talk about DA in general, and definitely to recommend blogs to follow! I am open for requests (for Origins, II, and Inq). I also run a no-drama Dragon Age Discord, which [you can join here.](https://discordapp.com/invite/ttgP5v8) Please comment if you can!


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